Friday, October 9, 2009
The Oldest has hit the teen years, and some experiences are replays of my own life in this small town. Like tonight. I'm now in the seat my mother once sat in, watching him walk across the road towards the fairgrounds, all of them turning to wave at the Baby.
This year, he asked to go to our local fair with friends. We went last weekend as a family, but this is something of a rite of passage in these parts. All the middle school and high school kids get dropped off in their team sweatshirts and school jackets and wander the fairgrounds, eating greasy fair food, going on the rides, playing midway games.
I remember going with my friends at the same age. The excitement of walking through the gates without parents, the chill of the air, the cold mud sucking at our boots and sneakers (we were smart enough to dress for warmth and comfort, not for fashion – of course, the Preppy Handbook era helped, with its' dress code of duck boots and Northern Isle sweaters!). The year one of the girls went on the swings, got off, and promptly lost her supper in a nearby trash can. The flirting with boys from other towns. The flirting with boys from our own town. The one girl carrying three humungous stuffed animals her boyfriend has won her. The thrill of closing the place down, walking down the midway and out the main gate as the lights on the rides were shutting off.